Symphony Drums Roll For Two Raconteurs Of Note

March 27, 1988|By Text by Barbara Mahany.

It is doubtful that the ladies of the WFMT/Chicago Symphony Radiothon 13 knew what they were unleashing when they lifted the white waterprint tafetta from the mugshot of Mike & Studs, the latest poster twins in the radiothon`s gallery of peculiarly paired stars.

Before we let the boys spill their hearts on the joy of being forever framed in cardboard, let us set the scene of this truly momentous artistic unveiling.

There we were in the fur salon of Neiman-Marcus along Boul Mich, nibbling smoked salmon rosettes and asparagus spears drenched in extra-virgin olive oil. Champagne was flowing, as was Jack Daniels. As the clock ticked toward 6:30, the appointed hour for peeking under the shroud, anticipation rose palpably. ``Who are this year`s celebrities under wraps?`` everyone wanted to know, for the ladies of the Radiothon had kept their deep, dark secret.

Just then, with the tension thicker than the brie being spread across water biscuits, a red-and-white gingham shirt collar was spotted across the room. Aha! The man who fit the clue-``a media celebrity known for his wit and his cigars``-ambled up to the bar and, indeed, seemed to be warming up for something.

``Yup! It`s Mike and me,`` confirmed Mr. Terkel, who went on to explain just why he and Royko now were hanging among the likes of Sir Georg & Sweetness, Ann Landers & Oprah, Siskel & Ebert, Bozo & Ronald McDonald, the poster pairs of years past.

``We`re sort of cosmopolites. Mike and I are part of the upper crust, the haute monde,`` he said swishing his lemon peel around his cocktail. ``We`re part of, how should I put this, not the jet set-the jet set is too slow for us. We`re part of the creme de la creme, that`s it. Vanity Fair is chasing us around the lot. We don`t know what to do. We get calls every day from Jackie O., all Truman Capote`s old friends. The jet set is much, much too plebian for us.``

``Oh cut it out,`` said Stud`s wife, Ida, underwhelmed by the ramblings.

``What a ham!``

Studs was not to be stopped. ``You are about to see a masterpiece,`` he told the crowd of 200 as Henry Fogel, Chicago Symphony Orchestra executive director, drummed his palms on the plywood podium, a futile attempt at a drum roll.

There, beneath the waterprint cloth, Royko with drumstick appeared ready to pounce on poor Stud`s pate. Percussion, Royko later explained, never had sounded so good, ``a much hollower sound,`` he noted.

Although Royko was nowhere to be seen except on cardboard-Terkel said he was off transcendentally meditating; Royko said he doesn`t go to chi-chi cocktail parties, because he ``can`t stand all those rich, bejeweled women pawing over me``-we did manage to track him down the next day. His comments on cardboard fame:

``Notoriety isn`t new to me,`` he mumbled. ``I`ve been on the side of circulation trucks, which gets you far more exposure.`` But isn`t the Chicago Symphony Orchestra spread a pretty classy spot for a kid from bungalow beginnings? ``I am a cultured fellow. I was born that way.``